


You Bring My Fears Alive

by rayraythegay



Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: F/F, TW: Pain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-03
Updated: 2014-07-03
Packaged: 2018-02-07 08:18:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1891872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rayraythegay/pseuds/rayraythegay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>its basically just angsty semi violent smut. enjoy :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Bring My Fears Alive

Rachel stared at her screen, the brightness burning her eyes, her fingertips pressing at the keyboard. _Sarah’s teeth on her skin_. Black. _Her fingertips pressing into Sarah’s back_. Black. _Sarah’s hair brushing along her shoulder._ Black. Rachel’s teeth pressed tightly into eachother. _Sarah’s laughter turning into horror._ The rapid slamming of the keys tainted the air.

“Miss Duncan, there is someone to see you. . .A Sarah Manning.”

“Yes, Martin, thank you,” Rachel said without looking up. Her fingers were moving, but she was not paying any attention. Her eyes were focused on the screen, but all Rachel could see was black. Blackness boiled in her chest, and Martin was only aggravating it. Daniel’s death was a rather unfortunate loss. New employees required training. Rachel Duncan neither had the time, nor the patience to handle such petty situations. “You are not paid to stand there, Martin,” Rachel looked up, her eyebrows raised expectantly.

“My apologies, Miss Duncan,” Martin looked down, bowing slightly. “I will escort her immediately,” he said as he briskly walked out of the room.

Rachel sighed harshly as she stood up and ran her hands down her abdomen, smoothening the black, skin-tight dress. She turned around. The lights of the outside world blended together behind the rain trickling down the windows. Rachel walked closer. Extraordinary. A true beauty. The world turned and Rachel Duncan was above all of it, watching.

The door clicked. Rachel’s arms tightened around her sides. She breathed in. _Sarah Manning_. Rachel exhaled, her posture tall, elegant, _elite_. “A meeting with me requires an appointment, Sarah,” Rachel said, her voice professional and cold.

“Well, what else was I supposed to do?” Sarah looked at Rachel incredulously. She was irritated. Rachel wouldn’t even face her. _Who does she think she is?_ “You haven’t answered any of my calls.” Sarah sighed, “Look, Rach-“

“You may _leave,_ Martin,” Rachel stated, her head slightly turned to the side. She could sense the hesitation in her new secretary. “ _Now,_ please.”

Rachel inhaled as the door clicked behind him and turned her head back to the illuminated night infront of her. The longer she stared, the more prominently Sarah’s reflection interfered with the mosaic of color below her. Rachel’s muscles tightened. She closed her eyes. Black. “You will refer to me as Rachel,” the blonde paused, pursing her lips. Venom. She turned around, feeling her body working to move smoothly despite the stiffness of her muscles.

Sarah frowned at her, unable to ignore the soft glow emanating from Rachel’s gold hair. “Are you serious?” Sarah’s hands curled into tight fists. She felt her nails dig into her palm. It gave her a fire. It gave her edge. “Fine. _Rachel_. . .We need to talk about what happened.” Sarah didn’t have the patience to deal with Rachel’s shit. “Look, I tried talking to her, but she won’t say a word.” Sarah walked closer, her footsteps cautious. She looked at the blonde. Aloof. Poised. A heartless cunt. If this is what it took to get her life back in order, she was going to do it. “She’s a big girl, yeah. She’ll be fine,” Sarah watched as Rachel broke eye contact, blinking. She knew Rachel was hurt. All Sarah could do was hope Rachel would come back and help explain things to Kira. Sarah knew Kira was a smart child, to the point where it scared the punk. However, Kira needed to communicate with her, and the child refused to do it without her Mommy Rachel. Sarah sighed, her voice softening, “She asked about you the other day-“

“I do not have _time_ for your petty inconveniences, Sarah.” Rachel clenched her jaw, her gums feeling the pressure of her teeth pressed so forcefully together. Rachel blinked. Composure. Her eyes turned on Sarah once more, noticing droplets of rain rolling down her leather jacket. Like beads. _Like tears._ Rachel swallowed, feeling the base of her throat grow thick. She desperately wished that the stern posture and rigid body frame would keep her from feeling. From falling into Sarah’s trap. Sarah was playing her and Rachel was certain of it. No. Rachel was superior. Rachel was elite. Rachel was _not_ a piece of a game. The air grew dense as Rachel observed Sarah, her heart melting. No. she would not feel. Feelings were for the weak. And Rachel Duncan was not weak. The inner walls of her heart corroded into a foaming blackness. Rachel blinked, her eyelids seared against the water forming in her unwilling eyes.

 _Kira_.

That was the last time Rachel played by Sarah’s rules. The punk had entered her domain now. Rachel made the executive decisions. Rachel was in control. _Surely._

The blonde walked around her desk towards Sarah, the sound of her heels against the floor cut through their silent tension with an overwhelming sharpness. Rachel stopped. Silence. How the water dripped to the floor. How the leather stretched over the punk’s luscious thighs. How the wet shirt clung uncomfortably against Sarah’s abdomen, the folds pressing tightly onto her skin. Sarah made Rachel’s heart beat weightily against her chest. Sarah made Rachel’s skin crawl with disgust. Sarah was uncultured. Repulsing. Lowly. Rachel was perplexed: how was she able to find someone so filthy. . . _intriguing_? Sarah made Rachel _feel_ things and that was unacceptable. Rachel spoke business. There are never true emotions in business; only diplomatic smiles and motive-driven flattery. And Rachel _thrived._

“Take off your jacket,” Rachel commanded, head tilted slightly as she inspected the punk. Rachel’s eyes were deadly, her smile widened as she watched Sarah follow her command. Good.

Sarah stared at the blonde, throwing her jacket to the side. She knew how Rachel felt about creating messes, but at this point she didn’t give a bloody damn because she had one objective in mind, and Rachel was the goal as well as the obstacle. The very little patience Sarah had for Rachel was quickly leaving. “Rachel just. . .come home, okay?” Sarah felt the air envelope her exposed arms, making her overly self-aware. Rachel’s gaze was a carefully designed mask and Sarah absolutely detested it. “It just helps if we talk to her together,” Sarah gritted her teeth. Rachel was just so. . . _stupid._ Sarah knew Rachel felt guilty as hell, but the blonde would never just cut the shit and admit it. _How was she even a fucking person?_

Rachel inhaled, her lungs light, forcing her to strain harder against the tenseness of her body, to remain smooth and collected. “Sarah,” Rachel smirked, walking across the punk, her finger trailing along the edge of her desk. Her eyes admired her finger’s smoothness as it glided over the thick glass, consciously refusing to acknowledge Sarah’s presence. “Your matters are none of my concern,” Rachel remarked. Cool. Casual. Unimportant. Sarah was unimportant. Unquestionably, undeniably, worthless.

The air was suffocatingly thick. The room was full of space, yet there was no air. Black. Rachel felt a harsh pounding in her temples, beating into her head. Black.  Rachel did not want to relive the pain. The shock. Her worst mistake. She did not want _Sarah Manning_ to remind her of the moment she noticed Kira in the room. The moment Rachel had snatched the child’s innocence away.  Rachel had failed. Rachel never failed. It was not an option.

Sarah exhaled sharply, “None of your _concern_?” She stormed towards the blonde, “She wants to talk to you, Rach what am I supposed to do-”

Rachel whipped around, her hand swinging along with it, the momentum of her body giving her added force. Sarah’s face snapped to the side. The crack of the blonde’s hand upon Sarah’s cheek rang in the air.

The punk immediately reached for her cheek, feeling the burning sensation spread on her face. Her body trembled. Hurt. Irritation. Her breaths were short and angry. She turned slowly to face Rachel. She hated the smirk spreading on Rachel’s face. She hated the red lips that gave her pleasure one moment and pain the next. “You _bitch_ ,” Sarah spat, her eyes watering. Questioning. Pained.

Rachel’s smile dropped. Her fingertips tingled with the rush of blood. No. She grabbed Sarah’s jaw roughly, pulling her closer. “You. Will. Call. Me. Rachel. Duncan,” the blonde’s fingers dug harder into Sarah’s soft skin as she emphasized every word. “Understood?” Rachel’s fingers shook into Sarah’s face as she crushed into the firmness of the punk’s jawbone. Sarah’s skin formed circles of white under Rachel’s fingertips, denting painfully under the blonde’s grasp. Rachel opened her mouth, her lips playful. Deadly.

Sarah was a threat. She needed to be put in her place.

Rachel released Sarah’s jaw abruptly, leaving her index finger on the punk’s cheek. She lightly traced a line down Sarah’s face, running the smooth skin under her finger, relishing in Sarah’s tenderness. Her _weakness._ Her finger reached Sarah’s neck. Rachel looked into Sarah’s defiant  eyes and smirked as she felt Sarah swallow. _Apprehension._ Good.

“Rachel. Y-You don’t have to do this, yeah?” Sarah’s knees felt weak. Rachel was going mad. Sarah wanted to run but it was no use. She knew this place was locked. Her heart fluttered.

“Do _not_ tell me what I need or need not do, Manning,” Rachel wrapped her fingers around Sarah’s neck. Rachel felt the muscles moving frantically under her tightening clench. Energy surged up Rachel’s arm and into her chest, infusing her heart with a newfound beating. Rachel breathed. Yes.

“Please, Rachel,” Sarah pleaded, tears filling her widening eyes, “why are you doing this to me?” The punk’s voice cracked. Desperate. She couldn’t breathe. She felt a crushing pressure rapidly building behind her nose. Rachel pressed harder into her neck. Sarah wanted to cough- to _choke_ but there was no air for her to use. Her stomach convulsed. Throbbing. Her throat pounded against Rachel’s hand. She would do anything. _Anything._

Rachel pulled her close, feeling the heat radiating off of Sarah’s reddening face. “You’re not as strong as you let on,” Rachel said examining the punk closely, “Pity”. Rachel let go of Sarah, watching as the blood rushed out of the punk’s face, Sarah breathing as the rapid release of pressure and pain left a pleasurable tingling sensation in her brain.

Sarah pushed Rachel, less forcefully than she had hoped. She needed a moment to collect herself. Rachel stumbled back against the desk, holding herself up, her hands pressing against the edge.  She looked up at the blonde, a slow smirk spread across her face. _This was a game, some sort of fucked up sex kink of Rachel’s_ ,Sarah thought to herself. She laughed at how terrified she had been for a second. She walked over to Rachel, her hands wrapping against the black fabric that clung so closely to the blonde’s waist.

Rachel closed her eyes lightly as she collected herself. A searing pain shot through her chest. It burned through her throat, her arms, her legs. Rachel wanted to escape this hell. She hated Sarah. She hated Sarah for making her feel inferior. She hated Sarah for making her face her imperfections. She hated Sarah for making her uncertain of her every action. Rachel was hurt, and the blackness was spreading, covering the emotions, covering the sound of her horrified scream, covering the image of Sarah, naked, pulling the sheets up to her chin, covering the image of Kira. Silent. Expressionless. Shocked. Black. All black.

Rachel slapped Sarah, pulling the punk closer, her hand deeply rooted in the back of Sarah’s head. With her free hand, she clawed at the table behind her. Rachel’s lips pressed against Sarah’s. Hesitation. Compliance. Sarah kissed her back, their tongues struggling for power.

Papers flew. Pens clattered against the floor. Rachel yanked Sarah and switched their positions. Rachel’s hands scraped against the cold, wet shirt that glued itself to Sarah’s skin. With some guidance, Rachel pulled it off of the punk and threw it to the side. Mmm. Rachel pressed into the punk, feeling Sarah wince as the glass desk edge jutted into her backside. Rachel bit down on Sarah’s lower lip, her tongue pressing against it, tasting it, abandoning it. Sarah’s hazel eyes. Sarah’s enticing scent. Sarah’s warm skin. Sarah’s breath meeting hers. Sarah.

Rachel’s hands met the punk’s bare waist. Rachel breathed harder into Sarah. Enticing. She felt Sarah relax under her touch, smiling into their kiss.

And it infuriated her. A shard of glass cut deeply into Rachel’s heart, puncturing muscle, oozing a blackness that dripped slowly, searing its way along Rachel’s insides. Rachel breathed. The air flushed away the pain. Temporary. It always was.

“Take off your pants,” Rachel bit Sarah’s lower lip, her presence commanding. Sarah swiftly worked at the button, the leather peeling off of her skin. Clutching the edge of the desk, Sarah felt Rachel’s hands on her warm thighs, the blonde’s fingers digging roughly into the warm softness. Rachel pressed Sarah further into the desk, using it to lift the punk onto the edge. Sarah kissed Rachel once more, her hand travelled to the blonde’s cheek, her feet pulling Rachel closer.

Rachel’s hands shot out and grabbed at an object on her cluttered table. She held it close to Sarah’s cheek. No. “Nobody lays hands on me,” Rachel seethed, separating the blade of the scissors. She stared piercingly from the blade to Sarah as she brought it in front of the punk’s widening eye. “I am not one for _games_ , Sarah.” Rachel watched as the clone’s body froze up against her. Fear. Mmmmm. Exhilaration coursed through the blonde’s bloodstream. Rachel placed the blade on Sarah’s cheekbone, smiling as she dragged the blade down the punk’s cheek, leaving a white trail where skin almost burst at the seams. Rachel smiled, relishing in Sarah’s apprehension, how her body trembled close to hers. Fragile.

Rachel wanted black. She wanted to dissolve into the blackness that boiled inside her heart. No. She saw the terror in Sarah’s eyes. Rachel was scared. Scared of herself. Scared of the way Sarah made her feel. Anger. Rachel pressed harder, feeling Sarah’s pulse throb frantically against her skin, _begging_ for mercy. Rachel shut her eyes. Sarah would not trap her. Sarah would not make Rachel lose control of herself. No. Not this time. Rachel wanted blackness, and that is exactly what she was going to get. Rachel breathed out through her clenched jaw as she dragged Sarah away from the desk, the punk’s feet unable to quickly find stability. Sarah fell to the ground, her head bouncing onto the hard floor. Ringing. The throbbing in her head became increasingly prominent. This wasn’t kinky sex. This was something much deeper and Sarah was terrified.

Rachel looked down infront of her. She was amused. Sarah looked up at her, lower lip trembling, eyes wide with fear. Oh, she was crying? Good. Sarah foolishly started crawling backwards on all fours, her body trembling, her hand slipping as she collapsed to the floor once more. Rachel walked toward her with an air of superiority. “Are we going somewhere?” Rachel stood over her, placing the toe of her shoe on Sarah’s neck. The punk laid her head down flat against the floor. Rachel ran the toe of her high heel along the length of Sarah’s body.

“I” Rachel’s heel landed on the punk’s solar plexus.

“did _not_ ,” Rachel pushed in, feeling the uneven softness of muscle against bone.

“command you” Her heel dug further as she gritted her teeth, emphasizing each word. She felt Sarah writhe underneath her. Sarah’s incoherent pleading infused Rachel with a manic fervor.

“to _move_ ”  Rachel dug sharply upwards, eliciting a loud gasp from the punk. Sweet, sweet pain. She kept digging, feeling Sarah’s body jerk beneath her as the punk cried. _No mercy_. Rachel ground her heel further. Sarah’s defeated whimpers added to the heaviness in the room. She felt Sarah’s chest rise and fall in weakly under her foot as the punk attempted to breathe through her pain.

Sarah was hurt. And Rachel put pressure on the toe of her shoe. Blackness simmered on her skin like a spreading inferno. The thick smoke filling her lungs, blocking Rachel from the reality of this world. Suffocating. Hot. Sweaty. She burned everything burned. She was drowning and she could not breathe. Sarah’s fists opened, her hands trembling, gingerly touching Rachel’s ankle, her calves, _begging_ for mercy.

It was the touch. Sarah’s fingers upon Rachel’s skin sent electricity up the blonde’s body. Rachel breathed. Rachel pursed her lips. She could not. It was too much. She was too much in the black.

Rachel moved her heel away with such a force that Sarah lurched upwards with it, a hollow gasp followed by short, painful sobbing.

Rachel stared at Sarah. Her eyes absorbed the sight of the punk reduced to weak, convulsing sobs, Sarah’s warm skin burning against the icy floor. Rachel stared at the indent she left in the middle of Sarah’s chest, the skin a flaming red. Why. Why was Rachel not feeling satisfaction? She wanted Sarah to be punished for evoking weakness within her. She wanted Sarah to suffer in the worst manner. Why, then, did the tears streaming down Sarah’s face make Rachel’s chest tighten, her throat close in on itself, her stomach twist, and her heart burst under the pressure of her vision?

Rachel’s hand shook as she tightly grasped the scissor blade. No. Rachel was strong. Rachel was ruthless. Rachel was to be feared. Rachel was power.

Tears welled in Rachel’s eyes. No. Rachel dropped to the floor, her knees hitting the ground harshly on either side of Sarah. She looked at Sarah in a state of manic disgust, pressing the blade against the punk’s cheek, her fingers white from her tight grasp. “ _You_ ,” Rachel spat, tears threatening to fall. She could not see Sarah. She could not see. Black. The blade shook into Sarah’s skin. “worthless tramp” Rachel’s face contorted into one of pain. She breathed out, tears falling on Sarah’s face. Rachel Duncan was weak.

Rachel raised the blade. She wanted to dig it into Sarah. She wanted to stab it into herself, the pain would distract her from her feelings for Sarah. The weakness. The shame. The regret. The failure. Rachel Duncan wanted to be freed.

She slammed the blade forcefully into the ground, centimeters away from Sarah’s face. The punk flinched into her, whimpering. She pushed the scissors away forcefully, the metal clattering as it skid across the floor. Rachel’s face took refuge into Sarah’s warm neck. The blonde trailed down the punk’s body, sinking her teeth into Sarah’s skin, soothing each reddening mark with the kiss of her soft lips and an occasional hint of tongue. Rachel looked at Sarah, savoring the image of her red lipstick staining the punk’s smooth abdomen. She felt Sarah breathe shakily under her, her head dug into the ground, her eyes shut. Rachel’s heart faltered as she started to register what she had done. Sarah could not bear to look at Rachel. Rachel’s face did not give her pleasure, did not give her _love_. Sarah was uncomfortable. Sarah did not desire Rachel. And Rachel only had herself to blame. The blonde grabbed Sarah’s face and turned it toward her. Licking her lips, the blonde kissed Sarah roughly, her other hand playing with the waist band of Sarah’s underwear, pulling it back and letting it snap stingingly onto the punk’s skin.

Rachel would make Sarah love her.

Rachel’s hand slipped underneath the punk’s underwear, feeling the inconsistency of the lace rub against the back of her hand. Rachel’s slender fingers lightly brushed past Sarah’s clit as she moved further, two fingers entering the punk, sharply curling upwards. Rachel leaned in, picking up the speed, feeling Sarah to be inadequately lubricated for the intensity at which she desired to move. The punk gasped. It was painful. Just painful enough.

Rachel moved her fingers harshly, pushing against the soft warmth of Sarah’s g-spot. Rachel brought her face down to meet the punk’s, breathing hotly against Sarah’s cheek. Rachel’s lipstick streaked along the punk’s firm jaw, her teeth sinking into Sarah’s succulent lower lip. Mmmm. “Relax,” Rachel said, her voice low and rich.

Rachel felt Sarah’s breathing increase in pace. Good. Rachel kissed Sarah, deeply. Warmth. Sickening warmth rushed through Rachel’s body as Sarah moved her lips with the blonde’s, kissing her back. Softness. Rawness. Vulnerability.

Rachel was scared. No. She was falling down the same trap. Rachel’s throat tightened as her every muscle strained to stop tears that threatened to resurface. Rachel stopped. She slipped out of Sarah, running her hands upward, slowly pressing into the punk’s warm clit. Sarah moaned. Mmmm. It would be torture. A gradual, pleasurable, torture.

Rachel grabbed at the waistband of Sarah’s lingerie, tugging it sharply, “Take these off.” She watched as Sarah gritted her teeth. Compliance. Rachel smirked. Yes. Rachel parted Sarah’s legs, kissing the punk’s inner thigh, playing with the smooth skin between her teeth. Rachel breathed into Sarah’s thigh.

“Rach,” Sarah breathed, her hands grasping at the ground, searching for something to ease her growing arousal. No. this wasn’t right. Rachel almost murdered her for fuck’s sake- _OH_. Rachel’s warm, wet tongue made a painfully slow path, tasting her growing moisture and teasing at her throbbing clit. Sarah didn’t want to feel so. . . _helpless_ , especially at the hands of Rachel. But it felt so good. Rachel’s warm breath brushing against her crotch was too much for Sarah’s body to handle.

Rachel looked up at the punk, smirking. “Beg,” Rachel commanded, her voice velvet upon Sarah’s body.

Sarah could not submit. She could not-“ _Rach_ ,” she breathed heavily despite herself. No. She wanted this. Sarah was frustrated. Confused. Irritated. Stimulated. She felt Rachel’s mouth upon her clit, sucking in irregular waves of harsh and gentle, using her tongue to massage the hot tenderness. Sarah breathed. There was no other way out, no alternative option. “Rach _please_ ,” Sarah pleaded, inching her body closer to the blonde, “fuck me.”

Rachel laughed, moving up to kiss Sarah’s neck roughly, inserting her fingers forcefully into Sarah again. “More,” Rachel whispered into Sarah’s ear, her tongue playing with the punk’s earlobe, biting down gently.

“R-Rachel please. Rachel…just- _shit_ ” Sarah breathed deeply as Rachel slowly, yet firmly curled her fingers inside her. “Just…fuck me. Please. Rach. I’m beggin’ you, okay? I want this I- _fuck._ Fuck me Rachel _…..please_ ,” Sarah’s low voice gravelly as she pressed her cheek against Rachel’s.

Rachel picked up the pace of her fingers, eliciting a gasp from the punk. Mmm. Rachel’s teeth sunk into Sarah’s shoulder as she pressed deeper, feeling the punk’s muscles shy away from the iron grasp of her teeth. Rachel chuckled as she moved down, her teeth grazing the firm fragility of the punk’s collarbone, rewarding each painful bite with the kiss of her red lips. Sarah arched into Rachel, moaning as the blonde teased her erect nipple, flicking, sucking, biting. Rachel breathed into Sarah as she felt the punk’s fingers lace into her hair, holding her close. Rachel moved to the middle of Sarah’s chest, pressing her lips into the stiletto heel-shaped bruise that was beginning to turn a light green. The punk winced. Good.

Rachel increased her speed even more, occasionally scraping her fingers inside the punk for uncomfortable pleasure as Sarah opened her legs further, her body begging Rachel to go deeper. Rachel buried herself into the heat of Sarah’s neck as the punk ground feverishly into Rachel’s fingers, her low moans vibrating into Rachel’s face. The blonde felt her own heat growing as her palm rubbed into Sarah’s moist clit. Rachel could feel the punk’s walls start to tighten around her ruthless fingers, contracting slightly. She was close.

Rachel’s mind blurred. Sarah frantically grabbed onto her back, nails digging into fabric. Sarah’s moaning became louder and more frequent as she pressed closely into Rachel, her body moving in a desperate need to quench her passion. Rachel breathed into Sarah, aroused by the power she held over the punk’s body.

“Rach- Rach don’t stop. _Fuck-OH,_ ” Sarah moaned as Rachel’s fingers sent waves of pleasure throughout her body. Sarah kissed the blonde passionately, moaning deeply as she grinded with an increased intensity, her body tingling with the heat of blinding lust.

Rachel’s fingers dripped with Sarah’s oozing fluids, her forearm burned as her fingers fought against the enclosing tightness of Sarah’s walls. The punk gasped loudly into Rachel’s neck, her fingers clenching into the blonde’s skin as her body tightened. Sarah’s walls squeezed around Rachel’s fingers as she shuddered, letting out a low, guttural moan. Rachel continued to curl into the punk as Sarah bucked her hips into the blonde, riding out her orgasm.

Numb. Rachel’s arm. Rachel’s heart. Rachel’s mind. Black.

Sarah laced her fingers through Rachel’s silky hair, kissing the blonde as her breathing slowed. The air was silent. _Intimate_. Rachel slipped her fingers out, dragging them lightly up Sarah’s abdomen, leaving goose bumps along the punk’s skin. Sarah’s body radiated with an enriching post-orgasmic glow. Rachel placed the wet fingers inside Sarah’s mouth, making the punk taste herself. Satisfying.

Rachel leaned her forehead against Sarah’s, looking into her hazel eyes in silence. Rachel inspected every inch of Sarah’s face, hoping to find imperfection. There was none. The heaviness returned in Rachel’s chest. She wanted so desperately to despise the woman. To find a reason _not_ to favor her. To fight her inner emotions by focusing on the negative attributes of the punk.

 

Rachel broke.

 

Tears forced their way through Rachel’s tightly shut eyes, falling upon Sarah’s face, flushed with pleasure. _Shite_ , Sarah thought, clearly shocked by the sudden change in Rachel. “Rach. . .” Sarah said softly, bringing Rachel’s head to her chest, gently running her hand through the blonde hair.

“You can’t do this to me,” Rachel sobbed, her voice muffled into Sarah. The blonde wanted so strongly to claw at Sarah’s naked body, to beat her, _punish_ her. Everything was a mess. _She_ was a mess. She wanted control, but there was none. Rachel felt Sarah’s fingers gingerly running up and down her arm. The blonde’s blackness frothed to the top, pouring out of her without restraint, her tears creating a messy veil of wetness between their bodies. Rachel nuzzled her face into Sarah, shaking as her pent up emotions surfaced, her cold exterior shattering.

Sarah kissed Rachel’s head. Was she happy that Rachel broke down? No. Not exactly, but it did give her an alienating sense of accomplishment which, after looking at Rachel, she was not particularly proud of.  “Hey, Rach. . .It’s okay,” Sarah said quietly, her face slightly burying itself in the blonde hair. She held the blonde, feeling the sobs diminish gradually into faint, shaky breaths.

 

“Sarah?”

“Yeah?”

“Tell me. . .” Rachel let her thoughts linger on her tongue for a beat longer, “am I a terrible person?”

 

Rachel was asking _Sarah_ a question. She was asking her a non-rhetorical, completely honest question. And even more strange, Rachel was asking Sarah for judgement. For validation.  This was beyond strange. But it felt. . .real. This was no longer the Rachel Duncan, deeply bound in her elite professionalism. This was the human being behind all the corporate bullshit. Sarah breathed in, her chest rising with the weight of Rachel’s head resting upon it. The air buzzed with an electric newness.

“What are you on about?” How was Sarah supposed to answer this question? _‘You’re a bloody psycho but I still care about you?’_

“Sarah. _Don’t_ avoid the question.”

Sarah chuckled lightly. _Authority was in her blood,_ Sarah thought to herself. “No, you’re not. If I can trust you enough to be with Kira, you can’t be all that bad, now can you?” Sarah lightly took Rachel’s hand, her fingers intertwining with the blonde’s, struggling for power.

They both diverted their attention to their playful hands, letting the silent tension seep into the air.

“Kira wanted storytime with ‘Mommy Rachel’ yesterday.”

  Rachel stood up, smoothening her dress and her hair. She left Sarah lying on the hard floor, the punk’s skin stinging against the surface as she proceeded towards the window. “A-and you’re sure these were her exact words,” Rachel asked, her heart pausing as she looked at the beautiful city below.

“Yeah. I was pretty shocked when she said that. Look, Rach…” Sarah got up, wincing silently as a clashing mixture of pain and pleasure amalgamated in a whirlwind of disorienting senses. “She still loves you, ya know?” She walked towards the blonde. “I-We want you back more.” Sarah’s hands wrapped around Rachel’s slender waist, her fingertips running over the slight folds in the dress. “We’ll get this sorted out, yeah?” Sarah tightened her hold warmly around Rachel, resting her head on the blonde, feeling Rachel lean back into her ever so slightly.

Rachel placed her fingers carefully upon Sarah’s, the punk’s hands comfortably resting upon Rachel’s abdomen. “Don’t expect an apology,” Rachel said, her corporate edge returning. “I’ll be there tomorrow. And put on some clothes,” Rachel pursed her lips in an attempt to hide her smile.

Hands left Rachel’s abdomen, leaving radiating warmth that seeped into her skin. Rain drops trickled down the window, encapsulating a miniature world. _Her_ world.

“You’re a psycho bitch, Rachel,” Sarah laughed as she shut the door behind her.

Rachel smiled, looking at her faint reflection. Yes. Sarah Manning made her feel things.  Sarah made her feel human.

 

 


End file.
